Warning
by Suikorin
Summary: A short conversation between three characters from Suikoden IV and V. Set in the Island Nations, approximately 15 years prior to V


Title: A Father's Warning

Game: Suikoden V & IV

Genre: One Shot

Author's Note: Since I'm stuck on my serious fic and I haven't written a one-shot in a long time, so I might as well.

Characters: Skuld Egan & Ferid Egan, Lazlo

Warnings: Spoilers, no beta because my awesome beta is overworked being disagreeable.

**Warning**

Life in the Island Nations can be one of the most idyllic around. Wake up to a gorgeous sunrise, gentle weather year round, treasure hunting around many isolated islands, and not to mention great fishing.

It was probably such perfection that Ferid wished to leave the Islands and explore the world.

Ferid, a distant branch of the original EnKuldes line of Obel, was a comely young man, with dark chocolate hair and swordsman's arm that was the envy of all soldiers. Each time he stood on the helm of the majestic _Lino EnKuldes,_ watching the endless blue one blue stretching as far as the eye could see, he wandered what his father would say about his wishes.

Oh, Ferid knew that Skuld would most likely agree. Skuld was never the type of man to object to his children's wishes. Already some of Skuld's other sons had left to see the world, All of them free spirits who refused to be cuffed to duty they never agree to in the first. Ferid only hesitated because Ferid was the oldest son, a fact that instilled Ferid with a greater sense of duty to his father and the Island Nations.

However, after the last berating from the Maritime Council, Ferid was at the breaking point. Though he may be well trained for such, all the politicking, the play of favors, the balancing of enemies was just not his cup of tea. Not to mention that some of maneuvers by different factions within the council required some unethical responses from Ferid.

As a true Egan, Ferid would not be so frivolously bound by birth.

So Ferid waited for night time right after the New Year's fest, to find his father and express his desires. Hopefully, father would understand and they may part amiably.

Just luck would have it, Ferid caught his father near the Obel Ruins.

Legend had it that the Obel Ruins was the site of a multi-level ancient dungeon, used once by the Cynders as a prison and punishment house for their criminals. Because of such use, the Ruins were littered with enraged ghosts of the past, manifested in skeletons and elemental spirits. There were even rumors of dragons living in the ruins' deepest lair.

The more adventurous members of the Egans always inevitably find solace in the clearing at the end of the first level, the same place that Skuld always end up in after a frustrating meeting with the Maritime Council.

Ferid fought off the various skeleton monsters of the ruins with practiced ease and speed. He needed to speak with his father alone, when neither of them have to speak between the lines. Even in peaceful Obel, almost all were taught to be wary of unseen eyes and hidden ears.

But once Ferid reached the clearing, he noted that Skuld was not alone.

Hiding behind a thick berry bush, Ferid heard a conversation.

"What do you need myadvice for? If that boy wants to go, then let him," said a young voice.

"You know why I hunger for your advice. When he was born, a diviner spoke of a great destiny to befall him, but that same destiny will destroy him. You were there to witness the words!" That was Skuld's voice. "You are an astrologist for the Scarlet Moon, second only to the legendary Leknaat. You can foretell the future, can you not?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that future is what you make of it," said the young voice with a sternness that surprised Ferid.

"Besides," the man continued. "I cannot help you because you wish to know the **when** of a critical decision. I cannot see that perfectly, especially one that is bound by a star of failure."

_So an oracle..._Ferid had met plenty of people with hints of prescience in them. Most of them were harmless since whatever divination they inspired caused much more trouble than they were worth. Star of Failure, though, sounded very disconcerting.

Still this was a Scarlet Moon astrologist. Of all the nations known to Ferid, Scarlet Moon had the best diviners, a factor in keeping Scarlet Moon strong against all the surrounding ambitious nations, particularly Harmonia.

"But you would know the conditions of his life span," Skuld pressed. "If he will live or die once he leaves this place."

"Death will come to us all, Skuld, even to me. So if you..." The voice trailed off.

"What is it?"

There was a faint rustle, and then complete silence.

Suddenly, Ferid was not alone in his hiding spot. His head was yanked back suddenly, arching his neck to a foreign long dagger.

"Last words?" was the chilling whisper.

"What?"

The dagger was pressed tightly against his throat, drawing a hairline of blood. "I don't appreciate being spied upon."

Ferid gave only the minimal warning before he shifted, struggling out of the man's grasp. Ferid turned to take a good look only to frown in confusion.

It was a lanky young man no older than Ferid himself, with an agreeable baby face and cynical gray eyes. However, what surprised Ferid the most was that the stranger's uniform. The stitching of the gold and black trims was an indication of Falena's infamous Queen's Knights.

"Pretty good," said the young man as he placed one dagger back into a hidden sheath. "For an armature."

"I've still got away," Ferid pointed out. If there was anything that irritated him, it was people boasting without merit.

"Had I not loosen the grip the last second, you would be showered with a fountain of your own blood."

Ferid's mind did a flash analysis of the situation. What the stranger said was partially true. Still, Ferid focused on the task at hand, protecting himself from a potential hostile. "You're far away from home, stranger."

The young man's lips thinned. "Hardly. I once called this place home also." He seemed far too relaxed and sardonic for comfort. Perhaps his status as a Queen's Knight made him arrogant. "You'll be donning this uniform soon enough."

"Ferid! Put away your weapons!" called Skuld who finally made himself known. He struggled through the vegetation to find the two, facing each other, swords drawn. "And show him some respect!"

"What?" Ferid was not sure if he heard father correctly. "Why should I?"

"This man is..." Skuld was about to blurt a name, only to be interrupted.

"Silence. Skuld," the young man interrupted. "Don't clutter the child's mind with useless information."

Normally, Ferid would have been affronted by the nickname of "child." However, the interaction progressed far too rapidly for him to notice.

"But!" Skuld was about to protest.

"That is an order," the Queen's Knight reminded. "Not a request."

Skuld, a man at least twice the size and a head taller than this stranger, looked ready to disagree. Finally, he bit his tongue and only uttered, "Of course."

Ferid was sent for another puzzling spin. No one, not even the Maritime Council or their family patron ever dared to give such a direct command to Skuld.

Even more puzzling, Skuld obeyed. There was enormous amount of deference showed to this scrawny miscreant, an action that forced Ferid to reconsider his initial assessment of this stranger. There was something else in play here, something so extraordinary that even his carefree and boisterous father dare not anger.

The young Knight withdrew his dagger, satisfied with the lack of action. His gray eyes shifting colors as he scrutinized the Islander named Ferid. "Now, since we understand each other, I suppose I should give a name. My name is Lazlo. I am pleased to meet you."

_Lazlo?_ Ferid's mind turned the name over and over again in his mind. Lazlo was one of the most common names for an Islander, much like the name "Alex" was the ubiquitous name for much of the northern continents. This Lazlo was like many youth, with all the common trappings of a self-absorbed youth far too confident in certainty of his own importance in the world. That boldly vulnerable stance, slacken pose of a sloth and careless stride like child teeter totting near a cliff's edge.

However, the aura of this Lazlo screamed anything BUT common.

The Knight kept on talking. "My original purpose here was to enjoy New Year Feast as I had always done since I was fifteen. However, your silly father tracked me down and requests an augury performed for you."

Now that made no sense. _Why refer to Father as silly _"What?"

"Well, you're here to request leave, aren't you?" Lazlo followed, never missing a beat. "Don't you want to know what the future holds if you make such a decision?"

Ferid looked to Skuld. Had he been so obvious that father knew long before he asked? And how did this stranger know about it? Did father tell him?

Lazlo continued. "The political environment and general peace of the Islands will result a predictable future, even for someone like you. However, if you should leave, sudden violent ends as well as unimaginable opportunity become greater possibilities. Consider yourself lucky. As you have overheard, I was an astrologist for the Scarlet Moon, and therefore one of the best. You should feel quite honored."

Ferid took careful consideration of his words and caught a small implication. "**Was** an astrologist?"

"Boss Lady Leknaat became tired of me some time back. So, I decided to become the court jester who entertains Queenie Olhzaeta and her girls Shahrewar and Falzrahm," he said as he pulled on filigree laces, "As you can tell by this uniform."

Ferid was still not quite convinced of this young man's blithe dismissal of the position. "You are a Queen's Knight, one of the most celebrated warriors of the Queendom of Falena, a position of high honor, and you're telling me that you're a court jester?"

Lazlo's lips twisted sardonically. "You're the eldest son of Skuld Egan, third in line to rule over Obel, the richest and militaristically most powerful Merchant Island out the south and the most likely candidate for Chairman. And yet, with all that promise of power and security, you wish to discard it for some off the wall chance of adventure. Who is the jester here? You or me?"

Ferid narrowed his eyes. Obviously, this youth had plenty practice of word games. "You did not answer **my** question, Lazlo."

"It was a pointless question with an equally pointless answer. Here is a purposeful question; do you still wish to know your divination?"

"You're giving me a choice?" said Ferid, looking meaningfully to Skuld.

"The question was directed to you, not your father," Lazlo reminded blandly. "Or are you just not paying attention?"

The Island Nation soldier, Ferid, could hardly believe what was happening. If he was an outsider, he would have been shaking his head in disbelief. Court jester indeed, as if anyone ever spoke with such certainty in the uncertain or so bluntly arrogant. Still, Ferid was curious. It should be fun to indulge the idiosyncrasies of a mad man.

"Yes." The words came out of Ferid with the strength of affirmation. "I am not afraid of the truth."

Lazlo raised an eyebrow. "Well, you're far more courageous than I will ever be." He crossed his arms and took on a distant expression. "So, ready to hear it?"

"What? That quickly?" Skuld was incredulous. Somehow in his mind, he expected a ritual dance with smoke and fireworks.

Lazlo's eyes glowed, and suddenly turned milky white as he spoke. "I can live in a constant day dream where thousands of paths criss-cross and rearrange themselves before, through and after me. It's beautiful, awe-inspiring, and downright sickening." he thumbed up toward the night sky. "And all dedicated by the sparks from the birth of our world."

Father and son looked up, seeing only the ordinary night sky.

"Melodramatic, I know," Lazlo said sarcastically. "So here is what I see."

Suddenly, Lazlo was not the ordinary looking overly sarcastic youth that Ferid first met. There was a deep hum like the chanting of a thousand monks. Without knowing, Ferid was dragged into the disorienting nexus of spinning stars. Before him stood a black blood humanoid figure that absorbed all the starlight's.

"Ferid," spoke that black blood figure. Its words echoed terribly with the myriad voice of multitudes. "You shall affect the destruction and prosperity of a nation. From your seeds shall you tempt the anger and favor of a God."

--

The next day was another blustery day down at the Obel Trade Port.

As a representing member of the Queen's Knights, Lazlo withstood all the well-wishers' platitudes with the serene patience befitting of a senile elder. Some of the well-wishers even gave him monetary gifts in exchange for suggesting favorable policy to the Queendom. Lazlo smiled and accepted the gifts and lavished promises upon the givers. The day promised to become another one of his diplomatic visit, dull and predictable.

For now, Lazlo awaited for the ship departure in the cabin of his private ship, granted by Queen Olhzaeta. The Queen was intelligent enough to recognize Lazlo's talents as a sailor and captain and therefore gave him the command of a ship when he was first initiated as a Queen's Knight. Still, Lazlo wished for his old boat; Queendom vessels hardly held a candle compared to the sailing vessels standard to the Islands a century back.

Still, Falenan ships were built more for luxury than utility, unlike most Island warships. The Falenan ships were wider for stability. All resting quarters had the soft touch of a prosperity pampered nation. His own captain's cabin had rugs and cushions spread liberally through out. Expensive furniture of cheery hardwood dressers and fragrant cedar desks were artistically carved and freshly veneered.

"Useless indulgence," muttered Lazlo to himself as he sipped idly on tea to calm himself. Luxury for even for ranked solider was one of the many aspects of Falena military he disapproved of. Even among his own ranks, the Queen Knights, were no match for a rusty old-timer like him, much less the Commander of the Knights, a useless whelp of Godwin under the puppet string of the Godwin patron. No, to strengthen Falena, the scheming wenches of the royal family used the Nether Gate instead.

Maybe he should have gone to the Nether Gate instead. It would make his plans precede smoother and perhaps help cut away the Nether Gate, along with the parasitic nobles who festered like maggots on the artificial prosperity of Falena .

"The culling of the human herd will be coming..." Lazlo chuckled darkly. The idea struck a cord in his very soul, setting off a sense of thrill not entirely of his own. There were so many other lives he saw, not many of them of

Suddenly, there was a frantic knock on his door.

"Come," Lazlo said listlessly.

"Captain!" the ship's second mate, Anji, burst in. He looked panicked. "Lord Skuld Egan of Obel is here to see you."

Sure enough, the ship rocked and trembled as the giant of a man boarded the ship.

Lazlo narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. He had foreseen this coming though intution. "What in the world does that _brat_ want now?"

Anji was still breathing hard when the door slammed opened. Anji had to jump away from the door as Skuld Egan burst into the cabin.

"Lazlo!" Skuld roared, stumping down hard to emphesize his discontent.

Lazlo only sighed and rubbed his temples.

Meanwhile, Anji tried hard not to loose control of his bodily functions. This particular Queen's Knight of many names was famed for his rune craft, combat readiness and fell cruelty. Far more fearsome than a coliseum gladiator, only he was to bring back defected Nether Gate Assassins. And if there was any need for questioning of prisoners...well, the Captain was not nicknamed "The Confessor" for no reason.

"Leave us, Anji," said Lazlo softly this time, regaining his usual composure. "Go check the provisions and the anchors. We'll depart at high tide."

"Yes Sir!"

Once Anji left, Lazlo leaned back in his chair, rather wary of the upcoming discussion. "Let's hear it."

"What did you do?" Skuld demanded, resisting the urge to pick up the Queen's Knight by the collar and rattle him. "Ferid left without a word!"

"He is **your** son, I know him less," Lazlo reminded. Then he smirked. "Adventurous lad, isn't he?"

"WHY?" Skuld was on the verge of a fit. "You knew! You knew the result of the divination!"

"Well, you didn't think I actually did your bidding out of the goodness of my heart, did you?" Lazlo said calmly.

Skuld could not bear it anymore. "That's the same divination that was given to me!" Skuld finally stated his discontent. Oh yes, while Ferid was dragged into a nexus of possible events, Skuld was there and heard the exact words; same words Skuld heard when he was younger by another diviner.

"Oh, you don't like what I said?" mused Lazlo placidly.

Skuld had enough of this _child's _flippant dismissal. He paced forward and pulled Lazlo off the chair by the collar. "You lied to him!"

Lazlo was not bemused. Without any warning, his hands shot out like a snake and grabbed both of Skuld's fore arms.

"ARG!" Skuld's reaction was to jerk back in pain, but Lazlo kept his death-like grip. The white smoke of cooked flesh rose, even after Skuld fingers became numb from the Lazlo's crushing hold.

"Do not forget what you are, brat," said Lazlo, this time with the same echo of voices. There was no more sense of an individual, but a collective of different souls that inhibited this seemingly harmless physical shell. "You will not test **us**."

Lazlo finally let the go of Skuld's forearms.

Skuld could not pull back fast enough. He reeled back, wanting to quench the pain but dare not touch the flesh. He examined his arms between the need to scream in agony and scream in anger, noting the burn scarring and raw flesh underneath. He would have to see a water rune healer in the future, if a curse of a True Rune could be healed at all.

Lazlo seated back down and continued to sip his cup of tea. "I will give you one specific warning." His voice returned to the previous listless tone. "My brotheren is restless. It had not devoured humans in so long that it reminds me daily of its displeasure. I will bet all my potch that it'll sate its avarice sometime within the next twenty years."

Skuld frowned. What was this man talking about? "Your brethren?"

"Think. Skuld. You weren't born with a brain for nothing. Which of the twenty-six possible _brethrens_ could I be referring to?"

Skuld swallowed at the implication. It was far too easy to forget that Lazlo was not just a talented Islander who picked up wanderlust.

"I'll have you know that Ferid will be destroyed by it, albeit mercifully painless and sudden." Lazlo smiled, chillingly. "Far luckier than the rest of us, don't you think so?"

"You're perverse."

Lazlo shrugged. "Only because I hold no illusions or grandur or honor." He set aside the tea cup, the bitter liquid consumed. He stood up again, and this time, touched the Skuld's burned forearms.

A cool wave enveloped Skuld's body, wrapping around the scars and freshly exposed muscles, reforming the damaged cells and skin. Skuld watched the smaller man, not sure what to think.

"I do apologize for my earlier outburst," murmured Lazlo. "But I am preparing a jaw-dropping surprise for the Queenie."

"What surprise?"

"Well, let's just say my _brethren___have been making suggestions, starting with the eye-sore Godwin Commander."

"You are going to eliminate the Queen's Husband." It was not a question.

Lazlo nodded.

"Why?"

Lazlo smiled a mysterious and ruthless grin. "Partially because I want to...and partially, because Boss Lady said so."

--


End file.
